"It is better to re-enter hell and become an angel, than to remain in heaven and become a demon."

A Story Where No One Lives

and so it goes...

Sosiel Vaenic and the ranger contingent stood in horror. The grave knight slowly rose out of the still waters of the lake, dark fire burning inside its eyes. The desecrated spiked armor of the once slain Staunton Vhane had returned to life as a grave knight. Joran Vhane, Staunton’s brother in life lifted his voice in vain cries, “no, no… NO! This cannot be!” The Firebelly narrowed his steal gaze at the creeping abomination, gripping hold of his axe. Gnarl E. Firebelly stood at once, swinging his arm as his brother would often make a spectacle, shouting, “By Torag’s hand, lets end this bastard’s misery.” The rangers were first and quick, letting off a volley that struck harmlessly off the undead dwarf’s armor. Sosiel cleared his throat, “Adjust for his magic.” He began to recall his spell list for the most effective burst. Joran, blinded by furry, began to charge at the grave knight as it lumbered upon shore. Gnarl let the dwarf have first blow, waiting his movement. But brother or not, he was going to have his thirsty blade its due. Joran struck hard with a downward blow. Staunton held his fist up in a cross to block, with surprise effectiveness. He muttered a guttural tone, “My brother, so weak in flesh, you will be in death.”

The undead warrior flinched as the next barrage of arrows found a way to pierce his veil, only long enough to pull his haunted pole arm and slice the leg of Joran. With a look of astonishment, the warrior fell to the earth. Staunton was sure to pierce his brother’s heart before he touched the ground. And so with a slice and a small sound of broken armor and bone, Joran’s body began to bleed out, sliding along the pole arm towards the still watery shore. Sosiel knew he needed to get closer to channel the energy that might save. Gnarl knew this foe was not the same he had dealt with before. Sure footed, the mad fire haired dwarf assaulted the undead knight. A swift sure strike into his mid section, enough to cleave a normal man, followed with a pulling roundhouse blow to the opposite side, breaking lines inside Staunton’s armor. Then, with mighty energy, Gnarl pulled and reversed the blade’s direction from retreat to a felling blow from above. The grave knight did not block the blow but let the warrior’s axe drive into his clavicle, crushing the bone but doing nothing to stop him from advancing.

Staunton peered with unholy energy at Gnarl and let lose a field of energy that suffocated and corrupted the very air around him. Gnarl felt the pain, undeniable and unknown. Sosiel began his channeling but the energy negated his attempt to commune with his god. Stanton then slammed Gnarl a pace back, landing prone. The rangers shot their last volley of enchanted ammo, resorting to their blades for a charge attack. Sosiel readied an arcane blast. The grave knight stepped towards the rangers, immeadiately causing a sense of dread among them. What started as a coordinated assault fell into disarray as the grave knight sliced, maimed, and crushed the trained swords men. A searing bolt of energy struck the knight from above. The energies mostly fizzled as Staunton continued to harvest the ranger contingent. Needing to try again, Sosiel began his focus again to channel and save some of the men before it was too late. As if sensing his motives, the grave knight moved beyond normal and drove his weapon deep into the cleric’s heart before turning to counter a move from Gnarl, now up again pressing the attack. Sosiel could feel the world spinning into Pharasma but he would be witness to this as least.

The firebelly pulled his axe in reflex, saving his appendage from another amputation. The grave knight solely fixated on him, flicking off the rangers that tried to flank. Gnarl stood poised, gathering his energy for the attack window. He saw where it was, every so often the knight would flex his shoulder, trying to unhinge the broken armor that was stuck inside the corpse. The next time around, Gnarl swung, bashing the shoulder piece to pieces. He then swiftly moved below the counter attack to break the right griddle, plunging deep into the undead body. It was with furious and righteous wrath that Gnarl deliverer an uppercut swipe through the chest of the enemy. And it was enough, through the ruinous fear and plaguing energy that the champion endured, to deliver the killing blow to the grave knight. Staunton fell, or the suit of mail fell, to the ground harmless. The fell energy gone, Gnarl surveyed himself. “Oh,” he felt the piecing pole arm through his side, blood seeping through the wound. Now he felt it was a good time to remind himself to attend to his religious rites as his brother had instructed him. Pushing the weapon through, Gnarl let out a painful grunt before letting the world go black.